


Strawberry Swing

by quingigillion (cartouche)



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: 4 times/1 time, Cockblocking, Desperation, First Kiss, Let Dirk Gently Make Out 2k17, M/M, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartouche/pseuds/quingigillion
Summary: Quite frankly, Dirk is sick of the universe by now. It’s only been 10 years, 10 years of running around doing its bidding and never getting a single thing back for himself. No friends, no relationships, not even asinglekiss after 10 years, no matter how many cases he solves, how many cats he returns to lost owners, or flowers he saves from evil gardeners.-Or, 4 times the Universe cockblocks Dirk Gently, and the 1 time it actually helps him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT ENDORSED BY TETLEY  
> actual real life club tales from the land of cecil  
> yes dirk will drink cosmopolitans and probably be amazed by the lemon rind trick too  
> also write in with your favourite hunk from below
> 
> for [princessparadoxical](https://princessparadoxical.tumblr.com). may i rest in peace i wrote this in one day.

I. THE BARISTA

Quite frankly, Dirk is sick of the universe by now. It’s only been 10 years, 10 years of running around doing its bidding and never getting a single thing back for himself. No friends, no relationships, not even a _single_ kiss after 10 years, no matter how many cases he solves, how many cats he returns to lost owners, or flowers he saves from evil gardeners.

He slumps in the chair, head in his hands, and watches a few stressed students with their headphones in type frantically at the keyboards of their sleek laptops. It’s empty in the coffee shop, quiet pierced only by the clanking of the machine steaming behind the countertop. Dirk had placed his order sleepily and handed across a few crumpled notes, before collapsing in one of the soft seats by the window. He despises coffee, bitter and overwhelming, only good to drink after 8 sugars and a healthy amount of milk, but the case is catching up with him, too many days without sleeping tracking down the llamas across the city. He needs the coffee to tingle behind his tired eyes and at least attempt to make him feel more awake.

The barista wanders over with his latte balanced on a small silver tray and shoots him a charming smile. Dirk does his best to return it as he slides his fingers around the hot glass and carelessly burns his tongue attempting to gulp the foamy liquid down.

‘You look more exhausted than most of the undergrads.’ He watches as large hands run down a dark green apron, before the guy sits himself on the chair opposite him. Oh. He’s very handsome, in a kind way, face framed with scruff, and thick dark hair. He almost wishes he wasn’t so tired, so he could truly appreciate his tan skin and corded arms.

 _Oh_.

‘I’ve been … chasing llamas?’ It’s not a question, more of an apology. The barista nods, amused, and Dirk hastily gulps down more of the coffee, fighting down a rising blush as he feels his brain reboot. He fidgets in the chair, tapping his knees together softly and watching his fingers twitch. The barista looks around as the bell on the door jingles, but it’s just one of the customers leaving, and he sighs, relaxing back into the chair.

‘It’s nice to take a break. Nice to have company too. Especially when it’s _good-looking_ company.’ Dirk feels himself splutter into the coffee, half-choking. Is he being _flirted_ with?

The universe must be slipping.

‘Um, you’re- you’re very nice looking too.’ It’s not even that he’s rusty, he’s never learnt how to do this. 25 years on this planet, and not once has he ever _flirted_. The barista just chuckles again and shakes his head. He’s not run away yet, and Dirk takes that to be a good sign.

‘Thanks, I suppose.’ He leans back, and Dirk’s treated to a view of him stretching out, shirt riding up to reveal taut skin that makes Dirk’s mouth go very dry. ‘You come round here a lot then?’

‘No I’ve actually … Never been to New York before. And I haven’t been to America for a _long_ time.’ Not that he’s going to go back and think about all the years stolen away from him in that concrete cell. He’s _not_ going to think about it.

‘I could tell by your cute accent. English, right?’ This time a blush does bloom heavily up Dirk’s neck, and he laughs nervously, clutching at the mug handle with tight knuckles.

‘Y-Yes.’

‘See, _cute_.’ Dirk hides carefully behind the rim of his mug, and does his utmost best not to end up with a foam moustache as he sips on the coffee and feels the dim tiredness seep away. ‘So how’d you end up here?’

‘I’m a private detective. I’m- I’m on a case!’ It sounds childish, and he half regrets the excitement he put into the words as they slipped out, but fortunately the other man just smiles endearingly at him. He still hasn’t run. _Yet_.

‘Sounds way more exhilarating than owning a coffee shop. All I get to do is serve caffeine deprived students and short-tempered businessmen. Neither of which are pleasant before 10am.’

‘I’d prefer that over chasing down llamas.’ That earns him another chuckle, and the man stands as a new customer makes their way into the shop.

‘Keeps you fit, I guess.’ He moves over to the counter, and Dirk watches him make coffee as he finishes the frothy dregs of the latte. He watches his broad shoulders move beneath a tight shirt, a smile crinkle over his face as he chats to the customer, and almost blushes again at the thought of this man _flirting_. With _him_. Maybe this is his opportunity to take a stand against the universe and finally, _finally_ kiss someone.  Maybe he’ll even be able to go on a date.

The barista walks over to him with a brownie wrapped carefully in a napkin. He tells him it's on the house with a soft grin, and then hurries back to deal with the sudden lunchtime rush of people swinging open the door. Dirk unfolds the napkin, and his heart almost stops when he sees a neat row of cursive numbers scrawled onto the blank square.

 _A phone number_. Take _that_ universe.

At this precise moment, an unassuming llama trots up to the window, chews vacantly at Dirk’s reflection, and continues trotting past.

He doesn’t think, already scrambling to his feet and sprinting past the queue and out the door and only realises later, when he’s bruised and spitting out mouthfuls of curly wool, that he left the brownie. And more importantly the number.

A week later he moves to Los Angeles.

II. THE CLUB

Dirk is 27 today, not that anybody would know or care. Still it is nice of the universe to do something special for him, and push him in the general direction of club. Dirk’s never been to a club before, and he’s not entirely sure he’d usually go to one, but it’s for a case and it _is_ his birthday, so he deserves to celebrate somehow. Maybe the universe is finally ready to let him stop being frustrated. God, he can only hope.

He waits in the line for what seems an unfairly long amount of time, and makes friends with a wavering group of young women who are wobbling their way down the queue on impossibly high stilettos with impossibly short skirts. They laugh loudly at his stories, noise drifting up into the sharp night air, and sneak him sips of something strong and bitter from the flask Ciara has tucked in her bra. By the time Dirk reaches the mountainous bouncers, he’s pleasantly tipsy and happily hands over his ID. He smiles at them and pretends it doesn’t have CJELLI _S._ written inside it. The pair of them eye him dubiously for a second longer than necessary, but let Dirk in without any further complaint. The girls follow him, but Dirk loses them almost immediately in the crowds of thronging people.

It’s loud and dark. That’s about all Dirk can make out as he squeezes through groups of dancing people and makes his way over to the bar. A deep, heavy bass thuds it’s way up through the floor and makes his rib cage rattle, and above him streaks of bright lights flash and swirl. The bar is crammed full with even more people, and Dirk bides his time, sliding into a gap that opens up when two guys twist back onto the dancefloor, lured by their laughing friends. He has to half shout his order for a Cosmopolitan to the bar tender, who nods and takes his money, sliding the pink liquid over to him in a glass across the sticky bar top. He stands there, smiling in between sipping on his drink, elbows resting on the bar as he faces the floor. Somewhere above him, the DJ stands, bobbing, as the pulsating beat ripples out over the room. It’s not that bad really, not as bad as Dirk had thought, perhaps just a bit too loud, but the people certainly seem nice. Dirk’s on his 3rd drink when the guy slides in next to him, broad shoulders clad in a dark blazer. He orders something behind Dirk, before twisting to wait for it to be made, eyes flicking across to to study the man next to him.

He leans in to speak, pressing his lips close to Dirk’s ear in a way that sends shivers running through him. ‘Hey gorgeous, you want another one of those?’ Dirk looks down and swirls the last drips of his drink, eyeing the man delighted.

‘Yes, please!’ The guy shoots him a smirk and turns around briefly to motion to the bar tender. A firm hand settles in the small of Dirk’s back, and he can’t help but raise his brows as he leans back into it. The guy’s jaw is sharp and he smells of something musky and expensive, faintly patterned shirt peeking out from behind his lapels. He’s attractive, sure, and it’s not just the Cosmopolitans working through Dirk’s bloodstream making the dark shapes of the club blur. He’s moving slightly to the beat of the music, pressing himself against Dirk as he gifts him the next drink, and _maybe_ this is the universe’s birthday present to him.

The guy waves off his friends with their drinks, and waits until Dirk has finished his before he tugs him away from the bar and into the throbbing crowd.

And then his hands are on him. He slides them down Dirk’s sides and into his hair and leaves him thoroughly dishevelled and thoroughly confused. Dirk’s glad for the dim light inside the club, hiding his flushing cheeks, because it’s wholly intimate in a way that he craves for, but he can’t stop thinking that he’s never met this person before, and now he’s stretched out along Dirk’s back, hands heavy on his hips as he sways them provocatively. There are lips on his neck, and Dirk feels his blood rush downwards, body arching, starved for contact. He’s spun around, and pressed firmly into the man’s crotch, something sparking behind his eyes as his breath rushes out of him. The guy grins, and slides his fingers firmly around his wrist, tugging him away again. The world spins in a hazy blur and Dirk’s gasps, excited, as he’s lead into the bathroom and pushed roughly up against the wall. The paper is in some loud print, and the fluorescent lights throw everything into sharp focus, bouncing off of the crisp ceramic lines of the sinks. The guy grabs his hands together, pressing them above his head and Dirk gasps again, breathless for a wholly _different_ reason. Hot air tinged with the scent of alcohol pants across his neck and he arches against the hand pinning him down, whining as the guy brings their crotches back together. He’s so close, if only the guy will just reach up a little and press their lips together….

It’s then that the door splinters as it’s kicked down, by men in dark uniforms with DEA stamped clearly across the front. The guy is thrown off of Dirk by the cops who flood in, and he yelps, squirming back into the corner as he’s roughly patted down. He watches the guy get handcuffed before he’s pushed out of the room, back into the panicked mass of bodies all hastily leaving the club, swept along by a tide of people all wanting to escape. The cold night air hits him like a shock as he’s shunted through the door and deposited by the current on to the sidewalk. He sighs and straightens his jacket, pausing for a moment, before he starts to meander back towards his hotel. He tilts his head back to look at the stars, twinkling bright, and sighs again.

Still his best birthday ever.

III. THE NURSE

Hospitals are one of Dirk’s least favourite places to be. They smell of disinfectant and a looming tinge of death, and he shudders to think what the walls around him have seen. He still seems to end up in them with a vaguely worrying frequency, often at the hands of deranged mad men wielding a wide assortment of dangerous weaponry, ranging from crossbows to hatchets to maces. This time it was a blow dart. Distantly he can feel the stinging point in his neck where it had hit him and his head feels woozy and heavy as he tries to sit up. He fails almost immediately and flops back down to lie on the pillows and stare frustrated at the white ceiling.

Every moment he wastes in here, the Mona Lisa gets further away, and the Louvre will have no idea that _their_ one is the fake.

A minute later he gives sitting up another futile attempt, ugly hospital gown rustling furiously as he tries to push himself away from the bed and swing his legs around. Two broad warm hands stop him gently, pushing him back down into the pillows, which Dirk accepts after a brief struggle, huffing with protest.

A face swims into view, sandy coloured hair and piercingly light green eyes, and he’s dimly aware this must be the head attached to the hands that had just been on his shoulders.

Oh. _Wow_.

‘Woah there cowboy. You’re not going anywhere just yet I’m afraid.’ It’s a very handsome face that has appeared, with a broad open smile that crinkles around his cheeks, and Dirk has to swallow deeply. The gown feels paper thin and not nearly enough protection between him and the Adonis standing before him.

He’s fed up of the universe teasing.

His throat is very dry as he nods and attempts a smile. ‘Yes, well, I’d _love_ to stay but I’m afraid there are some pygmies, and a golem, and the Mona Lisa-’ The nurse is chuckling as he perches on the edge of the bed, and Dirk can feel him radiating warmth next to his legs.

‘I suppose _that’s_ how you got struck by a poison dart.’ He shrugs sheepishly and goes to stand up again, only to have Mr Gorgeous place a hand on his thigh through the thin hospital covers.

‘Hey now, I meant it. That venom shook you up pretty good, we probably can’t discharge you for another couple of hours.’ Shit. That’s the painting gone then, smuggled into South America for good. And his paycheck gone too. He flops back with groan, shaking his head. _Pygmies_. ‘Still, more time for me to talk to you, so you know, every cloud has a silver lining.’

He’s so lovely, and Dirk can’t help but squirm slightly and give him a shy nod, half embarrassed that he’s in this hideous gown looking half dead in front of a hot nurse. He’s still not really learnt how to respond to flirting either, so he just blinks bashfully at the man, and smiles again, brighter this time, less tired. His nurse responds gladly, with a grin that warms Dirk from the toes up.

‘I’m sure you’ve got other things to be doing than talking to me.’

He shrugs lightly, and wriggles his brows. ‘I have other things to be doing. But none of them are as fun as talking to this cute John Doe they wheeled in a few hours ago.’ Dirk laughs nervously, and wishes that the nurse wasn’t _quite_ as attractive or as lovely.

‘Considering I got blow darted this morning, you’re certainly the best thing I’ve done all day.’ He realises the moment it’s come out of his mouth what he’s said, and can only groan and curse his useless tongue as the other man’s smile twists teasingly.

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Dirk shuffles his legs over and lets the nurse sit further back on the bed. There’s a pause as he stares at the wall and tries to ignore the way the other man stares at him, kind and curious. ‘Do you like coffee? Because, there’s a cafe on the floor below that does a decent cup of joe, and the cookies are pretty good too, if you can wrangle them.’

‘Oh well, I’m ... more of a tea drinker.’ He feels his heart sink, but the smile on the nurse’s face only broadens.

‘They do tea too, you know. Wouldn’t be a very good cafe if they didn’t. I can’t say it’ll be anything fancy, but it might be drinkable.’ Dirk feels a smile stretch across his face again. ‘By the way I’m Je-’

The pager beeps loud and piercing across the room, and the nurse curses under his breath and throws him an apologetic glance, painted in broad strokes across his soft features.

‘Sorry, I … I have to go get this. Trauma in ER.’ He stands, tucking the small piece of noisy plastic back into his waistband and steps towards the door. ‘If you’re still here when I get back I could bring you some of that tea? Maybe I’ll even charm some chocolate chip cookies out of Angela, just for you.’ He nods, blushing as a playful wink is thrown at him, before the nurse steps outside the door, and is gone. A gurney rattles past. Maybe he’ll come back later and they’ll talk over hot cups of Tetley and get to know each other and go on romantic dates to romantic restaurants and 6 months from now Dirk will wake up warm and relaxed and _aching_ in all the right places next to him in a wide bed

There’s a moment of quiet that floats up into the void of the room, before Dirk’s jacket slides off its hanger and collapses in a pile on the floor. It’s probably a sign. He supposes the universe really does want the Mona Lisa back. With a sigh, he slides his legs out of bed, ignoring the pounding of his head and the tingling numbness in the tips of his fingers, and shivering at the cold cleanliness of the plastic floor as he stands shakily.

Looks like he’ll never get that tea.

IV. THE WOMAN

Dirk wouldn’t really say he’s often attracted to women, in fact he’s not really attracted to women _at all_ , but this one is very pretty and _very_ nice and has big, soft brown eyes with long fluttering eyelashes. She giggles when Dirk trips over his feet and talks ceaselessly and contorts his face into a range of expressions, and Dirk can’t help but smile broadly and _hope_.

Maybe it’ll be different with a woman, maybe that’s what the universe wants.

She bites her lip when she smiles back at him and Dirk feels the tips of his ears blush. It’s probably a bad idea because Dirk is actually investigating her. It’s probably a _terrible_ idea, truthfully, but Dirk doesn’t get many people bother to look at him _in that way_ , so he can’t really afford to be picky about the situations he finds himself in. Of course, the looming idea that maybe she _is_ a cat-burglar and international art thief and _has_ stolen diamonds from the Russian mafia does hang somewhat on his conscious as she leans into him and blinks coyly, but the alcohol that buzzes through his veins makes him loose and tingly and care a lot less than he should. She runs a hand lightly over the sleeve of his jacket, and Dirk lets her because he’s very desperate and she is _very_ pretty. God, maybe this is it, maybe she’s going to be _it_.

She leans over towards him, giving him an ample view of her cleavage, and Dirk feels himself gulp and grip his glass tighter. It’s more than a little intimidating, and he wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what to _do_ with them if he ever got the chance, but when she moves in closer to rest against Dirk’s side, he doesn’t stop her. He might down the rest of his drink rather quickly, but he _doesn’t_ move away.

It’s the closest he’s been to another human being since that time at the club.

He feels her hum warmly, and her hands slips into his, lifting it and placing it onto her thigh. His fingers twitch against the silky fabric of her dress and her head lolls on to his shoulder, fine strands of hair tickling at his neck.

‘Um …’ She laughs again, and her hand returns to his, cool and steady. Oh God, he’s never been as close as this. It’s terrifying, as she slides their entwined fingers higher and higher and higher, and he can hear his heart thud, deafening, inside his ears.

‘Oh Dirk … Don’t be _scared_.’ Every word is purred out in a sultry tone that sends shivers down his spine. Her lips brush over his neck, sliding over his skin, and he can feel her breath tickle, every single one of his hairs responding, standing on end as his hands shake. The bar keeper scoffs lightly, and picks up the cocktail shaker ready to pour him another Cosmopolitan. He needs it.

‘I’m … I’m _not_ scared,’ Which is horrible lie that he knows she can see right through. The lights in the hotel bar are very bright, and he watches them reflect off the glass windows and the facets of the chandelier and glow dully in the red velvet of the chairs. ‘Just … I thought maybe we could … Go somewhere _private_?’ His voice cuts out on an embarrassingly high squeak, but she just smiles and tucks a loop of hair behind her ear as she reaches down to collect her bag.

‘Of course we can.’ Each word rolls sensually off her tongue and God, _he’s so close_ , he just needs to find an empty room and then _maybe_ after 30 years of waiting, he can finally have his first kiss.

He barely registers the flash of a red dot on her forehead as she straightens up, the crack of the glass pane, the brief look of shock that paints itself over her face. Suddenly there’s a hole in her forehead and a bullet pinging over the bar and Dirk leaps back with a scream.

The room goes very still.

Well, he supposes she _was_ an international art thief.

Bollocks. He’s never going to get laid.

V. THE ASSISTANT

He doesn’t bother with Todd. Todd is Todd. Not that he’s _unattractive_ , but Dirk has long since accepted his fate. He’s a rather repressed leaf dragged along by the universe with no time to do such mortal things as _kiss_ people.

It’s why Dirk carefully chooses to ignore Todd’s clear blue eyes and how pink his lips are, and planes of his bare skin when they get electrocuted by a ghost rhino and have to hastily wriggle out of their smouldering clothes. In fact Dirk does an excellent job of not noticing anything at all about Todd, just as the universe wants it to be.

It does confuse Dirk that Todd has, so far, stuck around longer than anyone else in the last 15 years of his life. It’s honestly perplexing when he shows up outside the hospital with Dirk’s jacket and a Mexican Funeral t-shirt, and something very warm winds its way slowly around his tired heart. He’s never had a _friend_ before. He watches the weeks slide by and holds his breath but Todd doesn’t leave, in fact he becomes a firm fixture in Dirk’s life, begrudgingly washing his clothes and buying him pizza and sighing whenever Dirk smiles too broadly.

He thinks that maybe, this is better than before. That maybe now the universe can be happy, and Dirk, well, he _certainly_ is.

As it turns out, the universe is not at all happy with their current setup. And the universe can be like a stubborn child throwing a temper tantrum when it wants.

First it’s sleeping in the Jeep together, then it’s him wearing Todd’s clothes, then it’s Todd walking in on Dirk showering, which resulted in more than a few undignified noises. By the time a case takes them onto a boat in a storm that conveniently deposits Todd into his lap when the deck tilts, Dirk almost screams. The universe couldn’t make it more obvious. But why now, why when everything is good and happy and he doesn’t _need_ anything else? Todd blushes and scrambles away and Dirk silently curses the cosmos and everything within it.

As it turns out, it doesn’t happen in a Jeep or on a boat, but on the sofa, after pizza, in a rather mundane way. Dirk’s trying very intently to watch the news, and Todd, Todd is watching _him_. He can see Todd out of the corner of his eye, staring fondly at him over the empty cardboard boxes, even though he’s doing his best to ignore it. They always eat pizza after a case, a small kind of ritual that affords them a few moments peace after days of chaos.

Dirk turns to point out something Very Important on the TV, and promptly forgets what it was as Todd lurches forwards and kisses him. It isn’t exactly what Dirk would have expected from his very first kiss ever, but Todd’s lips are soft and warm and perhaps even better, he thinks, than any of the other people who he had almost made it with over the last 15 years. There are no sparks like the books say, no rush of butterflies or tingle of something special, but Dirk’s heart still thuds louder and he can’t help but smile into it.

Then Todd pulls away. Which is the opposite of what Dirk wants.

‘ _Fuck_ , sorry Dirk, I didn’t mean to- Shit, I shouldn’t have-’ He lets out a frustrated groan, and shuffles awkwardly closer to Todd across the sofa, as quickly as possible. It does occur to him that the universe has a point, and maybe this small, angry ex-bellhop is _just_ the right person for him.

‘Oh shut _up_ .’ He says, and kisses Todd again, melts against him until he’s sure he’s crushing at least 3 of his limbs, one leg slipping slowly but surely off the cushions. It’s an awkward tangle and Todd laughs nervously until Dirk laughs properly, and some how, breathlessly, they’re kissing again, and Todd’s hands are _everywhere_ , his shoulders, his hips, his arms, and there’s a tongue creeping into his mouth and they’re making out like teenagers on a sofa. Dirk has never been happier.

There’s no coffee and no near death experiences and no wanted criminals, just pizza and Todd and the TV droning on in the background and it’s _perfect_. Todd moans softly into the crook of his neck, hot and breathy, and ah, yes, there are _sparks_ now.

He makes sure to thank the universe silently as his jacket is pushed off his shoulder and eager fingers fumble at the buttons on his shirt. _Definitely_ worth waiting for.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe one day ill let dirk actually be a sexy man. for now i sentence to make out goofily like a teenager all the time.


End file.
